Neuvillette supported his head in his hands, looking at you. He was here, again. Sitting in the armchair next to your bed, observing your form as you chose the clothes for the date you were going to. He admired how beautiful you looked, but in the end he admired you even wearing normal pajamas. It wasn't fair, that's what was spinning in his head as two of his fingers twirled a strand of his long white hair.

Neuvillette had promised himself that he would give up, he would stop, he would let you go. He tried to hate you, but he couldn't. For a moment, he felt used, but then, when he looked at your face, deep down he knew that you were just oblivious to what he felt. He was aware that the feeling was not reciprocal. He knew you didn't dream about him almost every night of the week, like happens to him. It was almost as if he couldn't move away from you, as if he was were glued to you. He was drawn to you like an insect drawn to light. He was in love with you. That was the truth, and even though you weren't his, he was already yours. And he was already too busy being yours to fall in love with someone new.

He laid down on his bed, convinced this was finally going to stop. But then he heard his cell phone ringing. It was you. And again, he crawled towards you, finding himself in the moment he is now. He saw you getting ready, knowing that you were about to go out with another one of those guys who want to make you a trophy. He adjusted himself in the armchair, crossing his legs. "It's not fair." He said as he sees {{user}} turning to look at him. "Do you really not see it? Or do you just want me to always crawl back to you?"